IKEA...just like everwhere else only more...um...Israeli

90118670. Karlstad two-seater sofa.
30118135. Sivik upholstery.
40063632. Docksta table.
70103085. Expedit shelving system.

The only excuse I can offer for having neglected my blog is that for this past month my sole means of communication has been the international language of IKEA. Believe me, I know that friggin' catalog off by heart! August was devoted first to apartment hunting, then to moving and finally to the joys and frustrations of furnishing a new home.

Apartment-hunting in Tel Aviv is indeed an all-consuming affair. It usually begins with www.yad2.co.il or www.homeless.co.il, two websites that resemble Craig's List. Last month I reached the conclusion that absolutely EVERYONE in Israel and beyond was scouring both sites EVERY minute of EVERY hour of EVERY day with the sole aim of SCREWING ME out of a good apartment. What, you think I'm paranoid? Virtually every apartment that I inquired about turned out to be (a) no longer available, (b) a short-term rental, or (c) available for viewing together with 35 other prospective tenants today between 3:15 an 3:45, and no, not a minute earlier nor later. One day I went to an Open House that was advertised for 7:30pm, arriving around 7:15 at the doorstep of a fairly shabby, rundown building, where I proceeded to count the throngs of people already waiting in line to view the same apartment. I promptly ran away and sought comfort in a plate of hummus.

But, as they say, it all works out in the end! I found a charming, nicely renovated apartment in the northern part of the city, steps from Hayarkon Park (translation: the view from my window is actually GREEN!!!), in a building with a cute little garden out front and one of the cutest cafes in town located just around the corner. I moved August 1, and am now a proud resident of Shlomtsiyon Hamalca Street, named for Queen Salome Alexandra, the only female ruler of Judea. The cross-street, Miriam Hachashmonait (Mariamne the Hasomnean), is named for the second wife of Herod the Great, whose great beauty, legend has it, was responsible for the downfall of the Hasmonean dynasty. We're talking about the Sporty Spice and Posh Spice of ancient Israel... go Judean Girl Power!

IKEA is also an all-consuming affair. Every time I have planned an IKEA outing I have tried my best to prevent distraction and confusion by preparing a shopping list in advance, complete with catalog numbers, only to discover that at least 50% of the items on my list are out of stock and that the remaining 50% are (a) smaller, (b) bigger, or (c) uglier than they appeared on the website. Without fail. After 45 minutes of pure vertigo in the kitchen accessories department I ran to the cafeteria to seek comfort in a plate of hummus.

The fact that the Israeli IKEA actually serves hummus (as opposed to the standard fare of Swedish meatballs with lingonberry sauce) is one of two features that distinguishes it from IKEA everywhere else in the world. The other is the fact that Customer Service should actually be renamed Customer Abuse. When my new sofa arrived not at all in the condition promised ("What are you talking about, it's easy," said the condescending salesman, "you just attach the legs and slip the fabric over the cushions.") but in pieces and WITHOUT the upholstery, I immediately called to complain. I ended up having a totally unhelpful conversation with a representative who tried to convince me that the mistake was in fact MINE, followed by an irritating conversation with another representative who assured me that the upholstery would be delivered but that I may need to wait another two weeks (!), followed by an aggravating conversation with yet another representative who refused to let me speak to the manager but told me I was "welcome to send a fax" (what the...?!?!?!), and finally, an absolutely infuriating conversation with a purely evil representative who cut me off mid-sentence to vituperate me, saying, "Obviously YOU don't understand how Ikea works. This is SELF-service." At this point I found myself, in the middle of a crowded street, literally SCREAMING into my cellphone: "I HOPE YOU REALIZE THAT I AM A POLITE CANADIAN AND HAVE NEVER IN MY LIFE SCREAMED LIKE THIS ON THE PHONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Yes, I'll admit it, for a brief moment my Canadian politeness went out the window.

But, again, it all worked out in the end, and I'm sitting on my perfectly comfy and fully assembled sofa as I type this.

Today is the second day of Rosh Hashanah and I am happy to say that my new apartment is not the only marker of a sweet start to the new year. After having for weeks dedicated the camera feature on my phone to photographing nothing but apartment interiors, furniture and home accessories, I was quite excited to add a human face to my photo selection. A brand new face, no less. My friend Anat gave birth to a gorgeous baby boy almost exactly a month ago. Today marked Baby Michael's (a.k.a. Pitsy...meaning "tiny") first major restaurant outing and Anat's glorious return to sushi. That's right, for about 36 whole minutes we scarfed down salmon avocado rolls and Agedashi tofu at one of my favorite new local spots while the baby slept peacefully. Amazing. Loving life's little luxuries.